


Romance Riddle

by FlashFlashFlash



Category: Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: 21st Century, Actually proofread! Yay! (Feel free to point out mistakes tho), Angst, F/M, Modernisation, Period-Typical Sexism, Pining, Still written a little like wakey shakey himself tho, Unrequited Love, blog post style, dw its v chill rly, power and conflict, there are some direct quotes/ references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 20:24:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14028066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashFlashFlash/pseuds/FlashFlashFlash
Summary: Ah, Demetrius. He is the apple of my eye; I am sick when I look not upon his heavenly face. I lost count of the days for which I have loved him many moons ago, yet still he dotes upon Hermia! She is petite, she is pale skinned, she is slim and lean; she is everything I am not! She is everything Demetrius wants. He looks upon her with such devotion; it is as if the sun shines from her very eyes.





	Romance Riddle

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who wrote A Midsummer Night's Dream fanfic? (Hint: It's me!) 
> 
> I wanted to write something special to celebrate Joe and Marie's baby being born (Zayda Mae, how cute is that?) but it's taking a while so this is here instead. To anyone who has no idea who those people are, I apologise. 
> 
> Let me know if this is good or if it needs work!
> 
> Aminta x

Hullo guys, sorry it’s been a while. I know I was supposed to update my vlogging channel earlier but I’ve had a really hectic couple of days. There’s a lot of backstory to this, but I need advice, and who better to come to for that than my loyal followers?

  
My acquaintance Hermia and I were in a pickle. She had fallen desperately in love with Lysander, a young man from our town, and wished more than anything in the world to marry him. Her father, however, hated Lysander with a fiery passion and thought that the handsome Demetrius should be wed to his daughter. Ah, Demetrius. He is the apple of my eye; I am sick when I look not upon his heavenly face. I lost count of the days for which I have loved him many moons ago, yet still he dotes upon Hermia! She is petite, she is pale skinned, she is slim and lean; she is everything I am not! She is everything Demetrius wants. He looks upon her with such devotion; it is as if the sun shines from her very eyes.

  
I am led to believe that Hermia’s father took the matter to Duke Theseus, for he wished to sentence his daughter to death if she did not agree to be wed with Demetrius. Oh, what a fool she is! Has she not the ability to see the halo which shines so very brightly above Demetrius’ sacred head? I was told that Theseus suggested simply sending Hermia to a convent should she not consent to her father’s request, but, though at this moment I have little time for the girl, I fear I would miss her knowing she was alive and well but so cooped up that I could not talk to her. As was expected, Hermia refused to wed Demetrius (think of all the things I would be so willing to give in order to switch places with her!) but was allowed until the day of Theseus’ wedding to the fair Hippolyta to make her final choice. That presented her with four days, and I must say that they are slipping away. The way the milk is curdling now, I am positive that, upon the day of Theseus’ wedding, Hermia shall not be the most prominent problem.

  
It seems that I have made a terrible mistake. I know not what to do next. Hermia told me that she and Lysander were to run away to the forest and be wed. I saw an opportunity; I had to tell Demetrius exactly how deeply I loved him, if Hermia and Lysander were leaving Athens, then surely I could find a way to steal the heart of he who has so unintentionally stolen mine. Oh, how wrong I was. It seems that we women cannot fight for love. We should be woo’d and were not made to woo. I told him how I was to be his spaniel; I told him how I loved him, yet still he cannot love me back! I yearn for him to return these burning feelings. The hole in my heart is growing larger and larger, fire runs throughout my veins, flowing like a river, hot like lava. I can’t decide how to feel about this way of life. How healthy can this really be? Every moment I look upon him I lose myself in his eyes, forgetting my imperfections in the hope that he could love me just as I am. When I am without him, I am all too aware of myself and it makes my skin itch. I need to find myself again, but how am I to do that when I am so very rarely lost?  
I was not, and never could have been prepared for what came next. After I had followed Demetrius into the wood, I spent some time trying to fall asleep under a tree. I thought I heard movement on the other side of the trees; I was right. I followed the sound, and soon I saw him. Lysander, on the ground, still as a lake on this midsummer night. Dead, or asleep? I saw no blood, no wound. Frantic, I dashed towards Lysander. His chest was bare; I laid a hand on the ground beside his head. When eventually he stirred, I saw his pupils blow wide open, infatuated, saturated. I still remember it so very vividly.

  
“And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.”

  
Excuse me‽

  
What about Hermia? Sweet, sweet Hermia? Did he love her not? My heart must have stopped, for in that moment my whole body felt numb with sadness. My lungs must have filled with rage, for in that moment I could not breathe. Wool must have fallen in my line of vision, for in that moment I could not see for confusion. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? If he is to be so cruel to me, why must he hurt me in this particular way? He, Lysander, must see how devoted I am to Demetrius; he must see that this is a harsh game which no proper gentleman should play. In the midst of these thoughts, my legs carried my heavy heart and I away. Though I was not thinking, that is not to say I did not see sense.

  
It was a few moments later when I realised that Lysander was following me. We arrived back at the clearing where I first awoke Lysander. In the beginning, I thought I must have been dreaming. Demetrius lay in his holy glory; the air around him seemed to sparkle like the stars on this midsummer night. Love him so much did I in that moment that I felt free of my anger towards the foolish Lysander. Love him so much did I in that moment that the whole world stopped around me; sweet scents filled the air and shimmering rose petals fell in a gracious manner to shower the both of us. Lysander was a distant memory- Lysander. On he talked, on and on, I swore he could have never ceased if it were not for me stopping him in his tracks. How many ways were there to declare love for someone? Surely he had used them all. These vows are Hermia’s. Not mine.

  
Stirring, Demetrius slowly awoke; his eyes locked on mine.  
“O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!”

  
Though it does hurt so badly, I shall have those words forever carved upon my heart. My one true love had seen me in the way in which I see him- or had he? Now the love that once overwhelmed me is gone, what used to be right is wrong. The rage, the suffocation, the confusion; they’re back. O spite! O hell! These men are to be the death of me, they think I cannot see through their ludicrous plans, but they are wrong! My mind spun. I wished for so long that Demetrius would love me, yet here he and Lysander stood, declaring their utmost devotion to me; to my heart. I forced myself not to believe a single word they said.

  
_Do not trust them, Helena._

_  
Do what is right for you, Helena._

  
They tried to convince me that they truly loved me, though I countered them with harsh words and true opinions. Hermia, who was once so very dear to me, arrived. She was distraught, the situation quickly becoming apparent to her beady form, her thick brains. I wish that I could say it had been her who had turned on me. Alas, it was both of us who spat fiery words upon each other. My heart broke to see how we, the four friends as children, had grown into these spiteful and vicious characters. Had I no modesty? No touch of bashfulness? These were things that Hermia had so poetically (note my extreme sarcasm) asked me. Of course I have modesty! Of course I have a touch of bashfulness- far more than a touch, I’ll have you know! Oh, how my ears did ache as she insulted me! A canker-blossom?! Was that the best that that bead, that minimus, could do?

  
By now, my ears were burning for a reason other than hate. This girl needed a lesson in her own first language! Only true mastery of a language results in optimum sentence formation and knowledge; I’d bet my best ball gown that she didn’t understand half of the things I called her. But then the men! Oh, the men, they were simply no better! Their eyes and hands followed me around like sheep to their shepherd, tending to my every need. I felt crowded with this new, fake love. It was when they left that I knew I could stand to be around the acorn that I once called my friend no longer. My legs, so much longer than her stubs, carried me away until I no longer felt the presence of her petty soul.  
And here I am still sat. Alone, with just my blog and my tears to keep me company.

  
I feel as though this may never be resolved between Hermia and I, and the thought saddens me deeply. Though a part of me cannot bear to be within a ten mile radius of her at this moment, another part of me yearns for the times we spent together as younger girls. Riding side saddle through fields on black horses at fifteen, carving our names in the school walls where it merged with the mud at four and brushing each other’s hair on the grass at ten. Feeding each other mystery foods in her pantry at thirteen; writing love letters for Lysander in her room just months ago. If only I had known then how this would turn out.

  
Thank you for reading this far, my dear follower. This means so much more because those whom I previously loved now mean so little.

  
Farewell,

IHeartHelen xxx


End file.
